A Sirius Conversation
by Litfreak89
Summary: Sirius gives Ron some advice.


_Written for the QLFC, Round 12_

 _Team: Pride of Portree_

 _Beater 2 Prompt: Relationship between Ron and a member of the Order_

 _Optional Prompts:_

 _6\. (dialogue) "You have a kind of aroma about you."_

 _11\. (dialogue) "It's time to export that damn toy, I think."_

 _Word count (not including AN): 1016_

* * *

A Sirius Conversation

Ron wandered through the house. The Order was having another meeting—about Harry, no doubt—and Ron and his siblings had been run out of the kitchen. Again.

Fred and George were working on one of their creations in their room, and Ginny was writing a letter to one of her friends. Neither Hermione nor Harry had arrived for the summer, though it was only a matter of time before Hermione would be there. He grinned at the thought, then quickly wiped it off his face and looked around. _Thank Merlin, no one saw that. Not that there was anything to see…_

Looking around, Ron noticed that he'd entered the Black library. His mum had warned him and his siblings about wandering aimlessly around the house, had warned that there was still dark objects lying around. Shrugging, he figured a library couldn't be _that_ dangerous and ventured deeper into the room.

A short while later, Ron heard the door open. He froze. "Ron, you in here?"

 _Whew._ It was only Sirius. "I'm over here, Sirius. Just browsing."

Sirius approached the redhead and leaned against a shelf. "Trying to impress a certain brainy brunette?"

Ron dropped the heavy tome he was grasping. "Ah…wha…what do you mean?"

"Come off it, mate. You know you have a thing for Hermione."

"Why…why do you think…?"

Sirius barked out a laugh. "Ron, you have that kind of aroma about you. It doesn't take an old dog like me to smell a teenage boy trying to impress a girl. I lived in a dormitory as well, remember? And since the only other females in the house are Weasleys, I just eliminated them immediately. Unless it's Harry…?" Sirius looked at Ron questioningly.

"Oh no, it's not Harry!" _Shit._ "But why does it have to be someone?" Ron asked weakly.

Waving him over to the comfortable chairs in the corner of the library. The two sat down opposite another. Sirius looked at Ron, a sincere smile on his lips.

"What do you know about me?"

Ron thought back to what his parents and Harry had told him about Sirius Black. Not much, apparently. "Um, you were good friends with Harry's dad throughout school. You're friends with Professor Lupin, and you're an Animagus." He thought harder. "You were accused and sent to Azkaban for killing the Potters, even though you were innocent." He shrugged. "Guess that's about it."

Sirius nodded. "I'm not that interesting, but there are a few things you haven't heard, apparently. I was the only one in my entire family to not be sorted into Slytherin, and of all houses, I was sent to Gryffindor. I've been shunned ever since. However, it was the single-most wonderful event to happen to me because I met James and Remus, and no matter what has happened, I would never want to change that." Sirius stood and went to the cupboard. He took out a decanter of dark liquid and poured a glass. Taking a sip, he grinned wryly. "My father was a terrible man who hated Muggles, but he did appreciate fine Muggle luxuries." Sitting back down, he crossed his legs.

"I have experienced the deepest hate, a hate that encompasses all other emotion, a hate that drove me away from this house at a young age. I left here and fled to the Potter's. There, I experienced more love than in all my years with my own family.

"I watched James fall in love with Lily, and I eventually watched her love him back. I watched them prepare their lives for Harry, watched them plan for him, every day. I've experienced the deepest sorrow I can imagine, and I pray that you will never know that pain."

Ron looked at the broken man in front him, a bit confused at this turn in the conversation. However, he was content to let Sirius talk, and he hoped there was a message for him in the painful memories.

Sirius glanced up. "I'm rambling, aren't I? But there's a method to my madness." Taking another drink, Sirius looked at Ron. "I've experienced hate, love, pain, joy…" He sighed. "Regret. This war, your self-imposed mission to protect Harry, will take your life. Maybe not literally, but soon, it will be your entire existence. I know because my life was, and still is, saving the Potter family and undoing all the evil my family unleashed upon the world. I don't regret that. However, I do regret not having my own life as well. I could have done both."

Ron nodded, understanding. "I can't let him die. And Hermione feels the same way. You know that, don't you?"

"I do. I also know, though, that Harry would never let his happiness come before your own. He's not the most perceptive lad I've ever come across, thanks to the Potter genes, but he's also no idiot. He knows, and you'll know when it's time to act on it. Don't let your loyalty to Harry sacrifice your own life. Neither of you." Sirius stood and stretched. He looked down and barked out another laugh. "I swear…"

Ron looked down and saw the tell-tale red string that indicated his brothers were listening. He'd have to work extra hard to keep his budding feelings for Hermione in check now. "I'll be glad when Fred and George open their own business. It's time to export that damn toy, I think."

Sirius nodded and patted Ron on the shoulder. The two walked out and into the hallway in time to hear Sirius's mother yell obscenities about Mudbloods to whoever would listen. Sirius cringed. "Damn you, Mother," he muttered.

Ron caught sight of Hermione's bushy brown hair. He took a deep breath.

"Remember, live your own life as well. Don't let your name or your loyalties direct your path."

Ron thought about how he had let his life so far be determined by his brothers' successes. Bill and Charlie's popularity and intelligence, Percy's drive, and the twins' prankster ways had pushed Ron to be something he wasn't for too long. He nodded to himself.

No more.


End file.
